a couple of days ago, a good friend of mine told me she's working at my old middle school, i loathe it when my past comes to haunt me. though, good memories did survive- intense courtships of cartoon characters, being made fun of because i refused to wear a bra- i always had a see-through white shirt on, i have no idea why i was so hard-headed to bear my swellings. i remember my first real crush, my first perm and live performances.

outside, i see a car waiting for me. there's this contest i gotta work on, i better go.

in a communion of buildings, a pharmacy is on the left, vegetables and other fluff to the right. saggy wrinkled old men drink shisha in the hallway, a man in a wheelchair hogs al-qabas newspaper, will the weight of the world pull him down? a part of me doesn't care.

i just want to paint. other people's business getting in the way of my own, uncool world.
the day slowly loses its place, i hope the dust storm calms down by tonight.

yesterday, i found myself wandering through a mall with three others, aimlessly petting the insides of our pockets, we had nothing to do, in search for a music player & maybe a new blazer and routine top.

no trouble there, it's easy to find tangible materials, i had a hard time finding my mojo. it feels like nothing inside, it's intense.

i thought i had found it this morning, something burned like fire inside, to be honest, i was constipated. i thought i had found it while in the kitchen, but it was dead, spicy onion rings.

i have been painting for a couple of hours, singing my brushes into a relatively realistic motion. it feels good, especially after my discovery last two weeks. my muse is with somebody else, i'm in love with a loser. splash!

outside, they're constructing two new apartments, it's always as if i've been living around drilling machines, six years really. these concrete giants are slowly blocking the sun from my window view, i'm way too boring to complain to our city hall.

remembering the two peanut butter cookies reem bought for me yesterday, my head passes by old daydreams. i'm hanging on by a thread.

a couple of days ago, a good friend of mine told me she's working at my old middle school, i loathe it when my past comes to haunt me. though, good memories did survive- intense courtships of cartoon characters, being made fun of because i refused to wear a bra- i always had a see-through white shirt on, i have no idea why i was so hard-headed to bear my swellings. i remember my first real crush, my first perm and live performances.

outside, i see a car waiting for me. there's this contest i gotta work on, i better go.

in a communion of buildings, a pharmacy is on the left, vegetables and other fluff to the right. saggy wrinkled old men drink shisha in the hallway, a man in a wheelchair hogs al-qabas newspaper, will the weight of the world pull him down? a part of me doesn't care.

i just want to paint. other people's business getting in the way of my own, uncool world.
the day slowly loses its place, i hope the dust storm calms down by tonight.

yesterday, i found myself wandering through a mall with three others, aimlessly petting the insides of our pockets, we had nothing to do, in search for a music player & maybe a new blazer and routine top.

no trouble there, it's easy to find tangible materials, i had a hard time finding my mojo. it feels like nothing inside, it's intense.

i thought i had found it this morning, something burned like fire inside, to be honest, i was constipated. i thought i had found it while in the kitchen, but it was dead, spicy onion rings.

i have been painting for a couple of hours, singing my brushes into a relatively realistic motion. it feels good, especially after my discovery last two weeks. my muse is with somebody else, i'm in love with a loser. splash!

outside, they're constructing two new apartments, it's always as if i've been living around drilling machines, six years really. these concrete giants are slowly blocking the sun from my window view, i'm way too boring to complain to our city hall.

remembering the two peanut butter cookies reem bought for me yesterday, my head passes by old daydreams. i'm hanging on by a thread.

My name is Thuraya Lynn (ثريا لين). Born in '88, Kuwait.
I draw, read history books and an avid follower of Haruki Murakami's works.br>
I'm an artist, paper collector and dreamreader.
CHECK LINKS FOR MORE ABOUT MY WORK.